In Which a Very Small Girl Goes to Kindergarten for the First Time

Just like turning 30, or finding gray hairs, or buying a mini-van, the inevitable has happened to me once again. My little Julia has started schoolia.

When we first moved to Arizona, J was not yet two, and school was still an unimaginable hurdle not yet looming on my personal horizon of doom. When she turned three, I still never thought that she would ever be old enough to go. I had friends with kids in school, of course, but those kids were, well…old, and mine was still near to baby-hood. The next year she was four, and the countdown had begun until I was forced to throw her to wolves—a.k.a., Kindergarten and all of its inherent evils. But, hey, I still had a whole year, which would surely never actually arrive, so why worry?

Well, somehow, in the last days and weeks and months of our little lives, time has indeed raced ahead at unauthorized speeds, and the moment for school has officially arrived. Anticipated, yet uninvited, expected, yet unwanted, the first day of school has stormed into our lives and planted itself firmly on the calendars of our hearts.

So even though everyone else’s children seem so old when they start school, why, oh why does my daughter, who is the same age, still seem so little?

Because, in my heart of hearts, I still wish she was.

Part of me is excited about the doors and opportunities opening for her, and for all of us, for that matter. But another (bigger) part of me is mourning at the door that has just closed, the one with all of the babyhood and shenanigans and long days together inside. And I might grieve for a while, but I know that time will softly and necessarily alleviate some of that sadness. One day I will come to embrace the Change, just like every other time in my life when I thought I didn’t want anything to ever be different but then I found out I did.

So here is to change, and growing, and learning new things.

Some pics of the big day.

Before:

After:

Free at last, we went out on a family date to celebrate.

There's nothing like a mint & chip ice cream cone

to make you go from this...

to bliss.

Just for Kicks

I keep thinking about how much Alexa looks like Savanna did as a baby, so I found a couple of pics of each to compare. The first two are of Lex and the second two are of Vanna when she was about the same age. Lex definitely isn't quite as fuzzy-headed, and I think her legs might even be a tiny bit less chunky than her sisterly counterpart, but they do have a lot of characteristics in common. Either way, I think they're both such foxy babies.

So, what does everyone think? Identical, or not so much?

Easier Doesn't Always Mean Better

"Mom, how many sleeps 'til Christmas?"

Seriously?

"Honey, a lot. I don't know."

"But you said you would count."

Of course I had. Last night when I was putting J to bed, she was asking about Christmas. She had just seen a commercial for a pillow pet, and I had given her my typical response: "maybe you can get one for Christmas." Then she wanted to know how many days there would be until Christmas, and I told her, "I'm not sure. I'll count tomorrow."

Truth is, when I tell my kids that I will do something "tomorrow" so that they will stop asking me random questions and go to bed, I don't actually expect them to remember by the next day. But, of course, sometimes they do.

And, of course, when they do, I am not usually in the mood to answer them...just like I wasn't the night before.

"It's a lot of days, honey. Probably like 150."

I was rushing out of the room to grab some yogurt because my leftover-Crazy Bread lunch was not cutting it. I had just gotten the two younger girls down for naps after the stress of trying to eat my meager meal while nursing/checking my email/spelling out a Christmas list for an ambitious 5-year-old. And I happened to be in a hurry because I was in the middle of reading a very compelling article about studies that have proven that having kids doesn't make most people happy. Oh, the sweet irony.

That article really got me thinking. Allow me to collect my thoughts while a "My Little Pony" DVD blares in my ear.

Being a parent is the trickiest, hardest, most stressful, time-consuming, and exhausting venture of my life. Yes, I crave breaks, I crave naps, I crave quiet meal times, I crave uninterrupted telephone conversations, I crave visits to the bathroom without an audience that gives a running commentary on what is happening in the toilet. Yet I can still say that I am incredibly happy and feel very blessed nearly every moment of my life. (For moments when I may not feel so blessed, see the above list.)

So how can a parent feel happy when parenting is so hard?

I have recently come to realize and appreciate the fact that easiness does not equal happiness, and experiencing difficulty is not the same as experiencing unhappiness. If I gauged my happiness by counting the number of times that I can sit quietly, or be alone, I would be doing myself a grave disservice. I know that more often than not, I find myself rushing through the day, full speed until bedtime. But the times that I allow myself to put off non-essentials like emptying the dishwasher or immediately switching the laundry, and actually take a few minutes to bask in the glow of my funky, funny, quirky, loud, amazing little ones, I can always look back on my day and feel pleased with the work I've done, and feel happy that I have the life that I do. To be honest, this is a new reality for me. After years of trying to get everything done and then sit down to be with my kids, I've finally discovered: it never gets done anyway. Might as well enjoy them while they still want me to play with them.

I'm also realistic...I know that there are a lot of things that do have to get done, like paying bills, or making meals, or yes, being alone for a moment to recharge my batteries. And I am not saying that I give my undivided attention to the girls even half of the time. But I also am trying not to let my happiest moments slip through the cracks because I am so busy thinking of the next thing on my list.

The girls have gone, a handful of times, to my sister's house for a few days at a time. Those breaks have always been nice, especially because I get to sleep in or nap if I want to. But I have to say, that I have never felt happier with them gone. Less stressed, yes. More rested, certainly. But happier? No way. Because the substance of my life isn't based on the smoothness or predictability of my days. It's based on the three busy little pieces of my heart that walk around asking me for chocolate milk and smiling at me with their whole souls. And that's what really makes me happy.

Doll Face

Such cute babies...but which one is real?

Cold Front

A few weeks ago, a cold front blew through our house and the girls decided to dress themselves appropriately. I must have accidentally left the air on 79 or something.

(Note that the mittens are socks.)

Poor Lex didn't get a choice about whether or not she wanted to be a part of this game. The girls squeezed her newborn hospital hat or her head just for good measure.